


A Game of Turnabout

by renouncingChance



Series: A Song of Knights and Lawyers [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9985358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renouncingChance/pseuds/renouncingChance
Summary: Tyrion Lannister stands before the assembled court of King's Landing accused of murder and regicide, apparently without a friend in the world. As it happens, though, a lawyer from another world has come to town. One who specialises in hopeless cases.





	1. The Blue Knight Rises

Tyrion had always known that the Seven had forsaken him all his life. There was ample evidence to demonstrate that claim. What he hadn’t previously grasped was that their disdain for him ran all the way to active mockery. But that was before he saw the blue-clad man with the strange hair standing confidently before the court, declaring his intention to defend a man who had been practically proclaimed guilty before the crime had even been committed. He felt a strong desire to burst into spontaneous applause at this rare display of divine farce.

His bemusement vanished, however, to be replaced with a perverse glee when he saw the look on his father’s face, a battleground between rage and bafflement.

“Allow me to summarise, for the purposes of clarity,” said Lord Tywin, the coolness in his voice belying the fire in his eyes. “You wish to stand for the accused -” _not ‘Tyrion’ or ‘my son’, of course_ “- in his trial, as would a champion in a trial by combat. Is this correct?”

The blue man nodded. “Yes, Your Hon- my lord. Think of it the same way, if it helps. But with words instead of swords. And, uh, no death at the end.” He added, in an undertone that Tyrion only just about heard: “I hope.”

Tywin’s face continued to be a glorious picture; he seemed caught between rolling his eyes and sputtering in angry incomprehension. _Perhaps the gods are on my side after all_ , Tyrion reflected. _If this keeps up, this fellow is like to cause my dear father a fatal heart attack_.

On reflection, that too would probably be held against him.

Tyrion finally managed, regretfully, to tear his eyes away from his father’s face. Mace Tyrell looked to be unsure of the entire situation; he kept looking from the blue man to Lord Tywin, as if searching for some kind of signal. Oberyn Martell, on the other hand, had leaned forward, his hand on his chin and a look of amused interest in his eyes. _This is either very good or very bad. Perhaps both._

“The idea is not without precedent,” the Red Viper began, a strange glee bubbling below the surface of his words. “Doubtless we have all witnessed trials where the defendant is incapable, and some family member or such speaks for them.”

Lord Tywin scoffed. “This man is no Lannister. And stunted though he may be, surely no man in this hall believes Tyrion incapable of speaking for himself?”

Tyrion hated to admit it, but Lord Tywin did rather have a point. _In a battle of words and wits, I am Gregor Clegane. If it must come to that, I would much rather rely on myself than some stranger._

As if reading his mind, the blue man turned and flashed him a grin. Despite himself, Tyrion found himself a little reassured. Surely no-one would pronounce this madness so boldly unless they had a good plan? And at present, Tyrion was quite happy to grab hold of anyone’s good plan. Within reason.

Prince Oberyn was speaking again: “I have read about times before the Conquest when lords would allow some disinterested party to speak for a defendant in cases of some complexity. I believe it was felt that having another individual investigating would help the course of justice along.”

Whether Oberyn really had ever read this kind of thing, Tyrion had no idea; he himself had certainly never come across any such thing, but then he had no idea what treasures Dornish libraries might hold. _If I get out of this, I shall spend the next year reading up on old justice systems,_ he promised himself. _Preferably far from here._

The blue man nodded his agreement. “Exactly. After all, the judges are neutral parties.” Lord Tywin’s face tightened considerably, and Tyrion wondered anew if the man was brilliant, or a fool. “It is only fair, only just, to have someone on the defendant’s side as well.”

Lord Tywin shook his head. “If you wish to convince someone with fool’s talk of justice, seek out Stannis Baratheon. I am here representing the Crown, and it is the opinion of the Crown that Tyrion Lannister will be judged fairly in the light of the Seven without some mummer blindly attempting to sway that judgement. Now remove yourself from this hall before I have you thrown into a cell.”

Prince Oberyn stood up. “I must object, Lord Tywin. I do not know how you serve justice at Casterly Rock, but in Dorne we allow the accused some rights. How can any man prove his innocence with the court weighing down his every move?”

Lord Tywin spoke through gritted teeth. “This court is prepared to allow every _reasonable_ request of the defendant. This request, however, is sheer lunacy. Now please, Prince Oberyn, _sit down_ so that we may proceed.”

A grin crossed the Red Viper’s face. “If the trial’s continuation is dependent on my sitting down, then I believe I will remain standing, Lord Tywin. I daresay I have better perspective this way.”

The blue-clad man was also grinning. Tyrion wondered just how urgent his death wish was. Meanwhile, Lord Tywin had turned to face Prince Oberyn, while Mace Tyrell looked as though he was contemplating standing up as well. Tyrion could almost hear the cogs turning in his head – _if a Martell can stand up in the middle of a trial, why not a Tyrell?_

“Prince Oberyn, your childishness is both obstructive and embarrassing to yourself, your brother and your kingdom.” Lord Tywin had left patience far behind. “You _will_ be seated immediately, or I will seek a new judge.”

The Dornish prince shook his head slowly. “But my brother and my kingdom wouldn’t like that, would they? Oh no, Lord Tywin. I speak with the voice of Dorne, and Dorne is most displeased at this turn of events. You will allow this man to speak for the accused, or I will be forced to return to Sunspear carrying most… grievous news.”

Tyrion almost gasped. No-one had spoken to Lord Tywin like this since the age of nineteen, since Castamere. Well, probably Aerys had, but then even he had ended up no better than the Reynes. _He cannot afford to look weak, but he can scarcely afford to alienate Dorne either. And that is besides those thinly veiled threats. Choose carefully, Father, or hire a very dedicated taster._

After a few moments of glaring, Lord Tywin sighed. “I did not expect a man of your… reputation to have such an appetite for foolishness. Nor did I imagine Dornish law to be a mere mummer’s farce. However, the crown chooses to indulge you, for now.” _Yes, nice wording, Father. ‘The crown chooses’, not ‘I am forced to’. As though every man in this hall has not just been witness to you actually having to_ compromise.

Prince Oberyn nodded, apparently satisfied. “Very well. Step forward, Ser.” He nodded to the blue-clad man, who did indeed step forward. “Will you honour us with your name?”

“Phoenix Wright, my lords.”

“And do you, Ser Phoenix, swear to defend this man, Tyrion Lannister, to the best of your ability from the charges brought against him?”

“I do.”

“Should these charges prove false, you will assist the court in aiding Lord Tyrion?”

“I will.”

“And should they prove true, you will raise no objection to the penalty imposed by the court?”

Ser Phoenix half-turned and met Tyrion’s eye for just a moment, then returned to the judges. “I will raise no objection.”

_Oh good. An optimist._

* * *

 

_To entrust my life to a vengeful father, or a stranger playing some inexplicable game, and quite possibly in league with the Viper. What a bounty of choice is laid before me._

It was only an hour or so later that Tyrion, to his complete lack of surprise, was disturbed from his grim meditations by the arrival of a visitor. What did surprise him was that Ser Phoenix had brought someone else with him, a young woman with an elaborate hairstyle and a purple dress, whose look of perpetual cheeriness immediately set Tyrion’s teeth on edge.

“Your  lady wife, ser?” asked Tyrion by way of greeting; to his immense satisfaction, the girl’s smile disappeared to be replaced by a look of mingled shock and horror.

“Certainly not… I mean, no,” said Ser Phoenix, looking for all the world as though Tyrion had greeted him with a punch. _How nice to be represented by a man of such ironclad composure_. “This is my friend Maya Fey. She… helps me in these matters.”

“I see. My apologies for any offence, Lady Maya.” Tyrion bowed slightly, noting as he did the look of amused surprise in the girl’s eyes. _This one is no lady in truth. Then again, this foolishness seems to be serving me better than the alternative; I would be well advised to indulge it._

“That’s all right, Lord Tyrion,” said Maya, bowing back. _Wrong. You should take a good deal of care in King’s Landing, girl_.

“Very well then, Ser Phoenix.” Tyrion made himself as comfortable as possible on the edge of his cot. “Tell me this much to begin with: do you have experience in these matters?”

Ser Phoenix drew himself up confidently. “Yes. Quite a bit, actually.”

“I see. And have you defended many men accused of regicide?”

The blue knight’s face fell. “Well… no. I can’t say I have.”

“Lots of murderers, though!” said Maya, beaming.

“People _accused_ of murder, Maya,” said Phoenix, grimacing. “Most of them were innocent. That’s really the point.”

“Well, happily for all concerned, I can assure you that I fit neatly into that grouping,” said Tyrion. “Is this sort of thing common where you come from? Another party defending the accused?”

He said it with forced casualness, and noted with approval that, judging by the stricken look on his face, Ser Phoenix had spotted the crucial point.

“Well, yes…It’s how things are done. Defence on one side, prosecution on the other, plus a judge. And they’re all impartial. Or they’re supposed to be, anyway.”

_Impartial justice? Don’t dare suggest such a thing to my father. Oh dear, too late._ “So where is it that you hail from, ser? Your accent is strange, and I have never heard of this system of judgement. Somewhere beyond the Free Cities, perhaps?”

“Somewhere far away,” said Ser Phoenix through gritted teeth. “Let’s just leave it at that.”

_How enlightening. A fugitive of some sort, perhaps?_ “As you wish.” He placed the subject carefully to the back of his mind, for future consideration. “So how do we proceed from here?”

“We should start by establishing the basics,” said Phoenix. “What can you tell us about the murder?”

The question was an obvious one, and yet Tyrion winced. “No more than any other man in this city. One moment all seemed relatively well, the next the king was suddenly choking to death. What more is there to say?”

Phoenix surveyed him carefully. “You suspect poison?”

Tyrion snorted. “Find me a single person who does not. If Joffrey’s death were believed to be accidental, my chamber would not have been downsized so dramatically.”

“But that’s so unfair!” said Maya, her cheeks puffed out in indignation. “All those people at the wedding and yet you’re the only suspect?”

“Maybe just the most convenient suspect,” said Phoenix quietly. Tyrion, to his own surprise, found himself nodding.

“Perhaps so. I am… not a popular man here. The only person of any consequence who might take my side is… well, no-one is quite sure just where he is at present. Or if they are, they have not thought fit to tell me. My father and sister despise me more than anyone. The court sees me as a conniving monster. The smallfolk find me a convenient scapegoat for all their various ills. The closest things I have to friends in this city are my squire and a sellsword.” He laughed bitterly. “Tragic, isn’t it? I have to employ people to get them to like me.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Maya crept forward and took his hand between hers. “We’re your friends,” she said, smiling gently.

Tyrion’s instinct was to scoff at such an over the top pronouncement of false compassion, but as he looked at Maya’s shining eyes, and past her to the smile on Phoenix’s face, something stopped him. _If these two are mummers, they are masters of their art, which could be very useful to me. If they are fools, better fools by my side than nobody_. After a few moments, he found himself hesitantly returning their smiles. Who was the last person who had smiled at him so straightforwardly? Shae? _Aye, a smile I bought with Lannister gold._ Tysha? But… no. He had enough worries without indulging himself on that font of misery.

Ser Phoenix’s voice broke across his thoughts. “Tell us about the late king.”

Tyrion shrugged. “Joffrey? A monster. I hated him-“ He broke off suddenly. _Idiot dwarf! You might as well have just confessed!_ He carefully surveyed their expressions. Maya, who was now kneeling on the floor in front of him – _I fear for your knees, lady_ – had dropped her smile, and now wore an expression of pity. Phoenix looked thoughtful, but nothing about his face suggested triumph or condemnation. _Well, I have come this far_. “Yes, I hated him, as did just about everyone else. And yes, I argued with him, but if I murdered every man who threw petty insults my way I would be alone in a city of corpses.”

“Was there anyone in particular who hated Joffrey? Even more than you did?”

That answer came readily enough. “Sansa. Sansa St- _Lannister_. My wife.”

Phoenix and Maya exchanged a knowing glance. “Ah yes,” said Phoenix. “We’ve heard a little about her, all right. I believe she’s been missing since the wedding?”

“Precisely,” said Tyrion. “If she had only had the good grace to bring me with her, well…” He raised his hands in a gesture of futility.

Phoenix nodded. “Seems awfully convenient. Or, uh, inconvenient for you, I guess.”

“If you have a theory, Ser Phoenix, please elaborate. I am going nowhere.”

Phoenix shook his head. “No theory. Not yet. I think I need to go out there and do some digging.” He stood up and stretched. “Oh, and Lord Tyrion? Just ‘Phoenix’. I’m not a knight.”

“I guessed as much,” said Tyrion. “Consider it a gesture of politeness. Deference, if you prefer. But if you’d rather I didn’t…”

“I kind of would, actually,” said Phoenix, scratching the back of his head embarrassedly. “Feels like you’re expecting too much of me. Never really been the dragon-slaying type.”

“I don’t know about that, Nick,” said Maya excitedly. “You’re as good as any knight! Running across burning bridges, facing down murderers and assassins, getting attacked by prosecutors…”

_What in seven hells have these two been through?_ The pained look on Phoenix’s face suggested these were reminiscences he would rather were left alone.

“I guess I could get used to being a knight. Hey, what about a samurai?”

Maya’s face instantly fell. “Don’t be silly, Nick.”

“Hey, that doesn’t seem fair-“ Phoenix suddenly seemed to remember that they were not alone, and turned back to Tyrion. “We’ll be back soon, I promise.” He nodded as he left. Maya trailed behind him, beaming.

“Don’t worry, Lord Tyrion. With Nick on your side, you’ve got nothing to worry about!” For some reason, she outstretched the thumbs on both hands and held them upwards while grinning. She continued this gesture all the way out of the cell.

_What an odd gesture. Vaguely obscene, I should think_. Tyrion sighed and tried to make himself comfortable on the bed, such as it was. _They don’t lack for confidence, which is something, especially if they’re to match wits with my father. But they do lack for trepidation, given what they are up against._

All the same, as their faces swam before him in the darkness, he couldn’t help but feel the crushing weight on his shoulders lessen just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how sometimes you have an idea that's so irresistibly silly that you just have to try putting it down on paper just to see what comes out?
> 
> Well, no, neither did I, actually. But then this happened to me. And it snowballed a bit.
> 
> If you're wondering, the timeline on Phoenix and Maya's end will become clear in the next couple of chapters.
> 
> Please enjoy the ride.


	2. Come Into My Parlour

“All right, I admit it; I’m lost.”

Phoenix sighed as he laid his head atop his arms on a window ledge. Maya hovered just behind him, fierce determination writ large across her face, her hands curled up into enthusiastic fists.

“Don’t give up, Nick! If we just retrace our steps…”

“Easier said than done. Why is this castle so _big_ , anyway? How does anyone find each other?”

“They shout really loud?” Maya flopped down next to him; an easier proposition for her, since the ledge was just below the level of her shoulders. “We could give that a try, anyway. What’s the name of this guy we’re supposed to be finding again?”

“Varys,” said Phoenix. “No last name, apparently. They call him ‘the Spider’.”

Maya made a face. “Urgh. If he turns out to look _anything_ like a spider, you’re doing this one on your own.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s just a name, Maya,” said Phoenix. He decided not to mention the fact that this place seemed to regard dragons as a perfectly normal part of their history, and that in such circumstances a half-spider man wasn’t entirely out of the question. He didn’t want Maya cowering behind him if they ever did find this Varys guy – though, he had to admit, if the man did possess, say, pincers, he would be at least as likely to try to hide behind her, which could be awkward. And difficult.

“Well, either way, I’ve changed my mind,” said Maya sulkily. “I’m not doing any shouting if it’s going to be answered by some guy scuttling up the stairs on eight legs.” She shuddered; Phoenix suspected her mind’s eye was going into overdrive.

“Ser Phoenix? Lady Maya?” The voice came from behind them. Phoenix turned to see a plump, bald man swathed in bright-coloured cloth, who put him in mind of a Buddhist monk, although the wave of perfume that followed him detracted from that ascetic image somewhat. The image was disarming, but some instinct told Phoenix to be on his guard. He had dealt with more than enough people who were not what they seemed.

“Varys?” he asked. The man smiled.

“Indeed. At your service, Ser Phoenix,” he replied, bowing slightly. Phoenix heard Maya let out a sigh of relief at the man’s apparently normal number of limbs. “Though I fear I must correct you on a small matter already. As advisor to the king, I am _Lord_ Varys. The title is meaningless to me, you understand, but many at court would take advantage of such a slip and hold it against you.”

Oddly, Phoenix believed him. Someone with a title like Master of Whisperers seemed unlikely to stand on ceremony, especially if he was as effective in that job as the talk they had heard in the nearby markets suggested.

“If you would care to come with me, I have prepared a room nearby where we may speak more comfortably,” said Varys, gesturing with a swish of silk.

The room, it transpired, was a relatively small one, containing little more than a table with three chairs, three goblets and a jug of wine. As they took their seats, Varys indicated the jug with a questioning look.

“None for me, thanks,” said Phoenix.

“I’ll-“ Maya began.

“None for her either.”

The Spider looked amused, but said nothing. Nor did he pour any wine for himself, but took his own seat and took a long look at Phoenix.

“I must commend you on your good judgement, ser,” he said at last. “Oftimes it is best to face these matters with a clear head and sharp wits. A lesson our dear Lord Tyrion has never mastered, I fear; he does not lack for the latter, but seems determined to obscure the former whenever possible.”

Phoenix was surprised; he had expected more diplomatic beating around the bush before Tyrion was mentioned. Varys saw his surprise and smiled.

“I did not come to find you to bid you welcome to the Red Keep, my friend,” he said softly. “The best preparation you could have possibly received for your time here is the reception you endured from Lord Tywin yesterday. Rather, we have a matter of mutual interest, as you have no doubt surmised. You see, I share your concern for Lord Tyrion, and indeed your belief in his innocence. I am sadly unable to act on his behalf myself, or rather to be _seen_ to aid him, but I daresay as his representatives you have more freedom than I. You are also unknown in this city, which may in fact open more doors than the contrary.”

Phoenix leaned back in his seat. “If helping Lord Tyrion is so dangerous, why meet with us here and now, rather than, say, some inn in the dead of night? What if someone’s listening at the door?”

Varys tittered, an oddly effeminate sound. “I can assure you, Ser Phoenix, we are perfectly safe here. I am the one charged with listening at doors in this city, so to speak. At any rate, if we were to meet in secret, why, that would be more suspicious than anything were we to be discovered. As it is, I am doing no more than apprising you of the facts at play in this trial. I can hardly be blamed for doing such.”

Something had been bothering Phoenix since Varys had first introduced himself, screaming for attention at the back of his mind, and now finally it leapt into full view. “Lord Varys, I have a question before we start.”

“I am sure you have many,” said Varys, tucking his hands into his sleeves. “I shall do what I can to enlighten you.”

“When we met a few minutes ago, you addressed us both by name,” said Phoenix. “But only I was in court yesterday. Nobody here should know Maya’s name. So how is it that you do?”

“It is quite simple,” said Varys with a smile. “Knowing things is my business. Particularly those things which are generally unknown. That said, you need have no fear of me. Your secrets are not presently my concern.”

_Well if that’s not a chilling implication, I don’t know what is._ “That’s not much of an answer.”

“Given my position in this court, can you blame me for not going into more detail?”

“I guess not,” said Maya, the first time she had spoken since Varys had appeared. It was unlike her to go silent for so long; Phoenix wondered if she’d been sizing their companion up. Varys nodded in her direction and spread his hands wide.

“I assure you, there is a great deal I _can_ tell you, so perhaps we could move on to that portion of our discussion?”

Phoenix was ready with another question immediately. “What can you tell me about Oberyn Martell?”

“Ah, of course.” Varys’s smile faded. “Your benefactor. And also, I daresay, the man you should fear most at present.”

“But he was on Nick’s side, right?” said Maya.

“It would be more correct to say that, for one reason or another, your interests happened to align,” said Varys sombrely. “I know not what game Prince Oberyn may be playing. But no man is named ‘The Red Viper’ for being generous and openhearted. Your surprise appearance in court yesterday suited his wants so perfectly that no doubt many here already assume you to be on his payroll. It may even be that he will try to make it so. Only you can decide whether such an arrangement would be beneficial to you, of course, but I must counsel against it. I doubt very much that the exoneration of Tyrion Lannister is his true goal.”

Phoenix considered all of this. “So best to avoid him, if possible. Who should we be speaking to, in that case?”

“If it is witnesses you want, I daresay half the capital would suffice. I have little doubt the queen will mobilise as many people as possible to tear her brother down.” There was a strange glint in Varys’s eye. “However, if you wish to get anywhere with your investigation, might I suggest you look into the Tyrells? The tragically widowed Margaery was, after all, the closest person to the king when he met his end, in every sense. No doubt Lord Mace and Lady Olenna will also have much to tell you. And as a member of the Kingsguard, Ser Loras’s perspective may also be illuminating.”

“What about the queen?” said Maya.

“Queen Cersei has… a forceful personality,” said Varys. “By all means speak with her, but don’t expect to be any wiser for the experience. The poor woman has suffered a most grievous loss.”

_I don’t have many cards just yet; no choice but to lay them on the table. Yeesh, and there I thought I was a good poker player._ “And Sansa Lannister?” said Phoenix.

“Hmm.” Varys sat back in his chair. “I see your line of reasoning. Lady Sansa has, of course, vanished without trace, which gives you a great deal of freedom with regard to her. And she has no friends in this court. But proceed with caution, ser. Implicating Lord Tyrion’s wife is far from the safest course of action. If anything, many would take it as evidence of conspiracy between the two of them.”

“Even if she despised him?” It seemed a safe guess, given all the court gossip they had picked up on in the last couple of days.

“Even so. You underestimate Lord Tywin and Queen Cersei’s determination in this matter, I daresay. Remember that for many, Lord Tyrion’s guilt is already assured. This trial is, for them, no more than an investigation into _how_ he did it, and failure to unearth a satisfactory answer to that question will not impact his sentence noticeably.”

“Remind you of anyone?” Maya whispered into Phoenix’s ear.

“I know,” Phoenix whispered back. “It’s like facing off against Edgeworth and Franziska at the same time.” He shuddered instinctively at the thought.

He suddenly became aware that Varys was staring bemusedly at the two of them. Phoenix winced, and went to scratch the back of his head.

“Uh… sorry about that.”

Varys shook his head. “Of course, I would not wish to impede your confidences. Now, do you feel you are adequately prepared for what lies ahead?”

Phoenix considered for a moment. “Ideally, I’d like to have seen where the murder happened, but since everything’s been cleaned away, I think the chances of any clues still lying around are slim.”

“Indeed. Well, I certainly hope that your investigation bears fruit.”

They began to rise from their chairs. Maya, who was the first up, bowed to Varys.

“Thanks, Mis- Lord Varys! You’ve given us a lot of help here!”

Varys held up his hands, as if to deflect her gratitude.

“Think nothing of it. But before we part, I do have a question for you, Ser Phoenix, if you would be so kind.”

“Uh… sure.” Phoenix’s head was suddenly filled with an image of Detective Gumshoe shouting “ _I’m the one asking the questions here, pal!_ ” He decided not to vocalise the thought.

“What was it that made you, a man utterly unknown in this land as far as I can tell, want to help defend a man whom almost everyone believes to be guilty?”

“You’ve just answered your own question,” said Phoenix confidently. “I don’t know if it’s some kind of instinct, but something about this whole situation feels off to me. Nobody’s guilt is ever this immediately clear. Believe me, I know. I’ve defended enough people that seemed guilty as all hell at first glance.” Beside him, Maya nodded firmly. “It all feels like a set-up. And when I come across someone who’s so obviously not getting the justice they deserve, well, I just can’t help myself.”

Varys studied him coolly for a moment. “You are a fascinating man, ser. And, if I may say so, remarkably straightforward. Another remarkably straightforward man came to this city some time ago. He too, in his own way, tried to ensure justice was done. And he… well, in your time here, I don’t suppose you have heard of what happened to Eddard Stark?”

Phoenix paled, and he felt Maya clutch instinctively at his arm. “Yes. I have.”

“Then consider this your final warning, ser. Keep your wits about you. At present, you are wholly unknown here, and the sheer novelty of what you are doing is allowing you a lot of freedom. Never underestimate the value of curiosity. Many more paths are open to you than would usually be the case for a stranger in this city. But never forget that you are surrounded by snakes and lions of all kinds. You must take more care than Lord Stark did not to be eaten.”


	3. Sunlit Interlude

As he sat in the gardens, basking in the afternoon sunlight, Phoenix felt a rare wave of serenity wash over him. _This place is bizarre and backwards in thousands of ways, half of which I probably haven’t even discovered yet. But this I could get used to._

Beside him, a sleeping Maya gave a contented sigh, and he smiled. Even if they were waiting to speak to a witness, he knew these moments of peace had to be grasped with both hands. They had both long since earned some time off, even if the universe currently seemed unwilling to allow it to them.

His thoughts wandered to home, and he realised with a start that it was the first time that had happened since before they had spoken with Varys the previous day. He was fully engaged in attorney mode now, with little time for distractions. He couldn’t help but feel guilty about it, though, as he imagined what might be going on back home. Were there searches going on for them? Was someone, Gumshoe or Edgeworth perhaps, watering Charley? And – oh God – how was Pearl taking it? Best case scenario, she would imagine that her favourite couple had eloped together. But no, even Pearl at her most deluded couldn’t feel good about that. It still left her with no legal guardians, what with her family all either dead, in jail or missing.

As his stomach contorted with guilt, Maya stirred next to him, and he found his gaze moving towards her. How was she feeling about all of this? He knew better than to let her bubbly persona fool him. Maya, with her combination of self-confidence issues and the weight of responsibility for a whole village, probably hadn’t stopped thinking about her cousin since they’d arrived. What was more, they’d hardly had a chance to breathe since the horror of Hazakura Temple – the death of her mother and imprisonment of her sister’s lover on top of the physical depredation she’d been through over those gruelling days. He shook his head in wonder as the terrible images flowed through his head once more. How anyone could have the strength to stand after that, he couldn’t fathom.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, out of a combination of affection and protectiveness. “Nick…” she breathed softly. For a moment he assumed she had woken, but she showed no signs of movement and her breathing retained the regularity of sleep. For a moment, he found himself wishing that the Tyrell woman would not show up, that he and Maya would just be left here all day, alone and in peace together for the first time since… he couldn’t remember when.

As if to chide him for such foolish thoughts (he could practically hear the crack of a whip), a woman came around the corner just then, followed closely by a small retinue of what looked to be noble women and guards. Phoenix quickly shook Maya awake, although even as she sat blearily up, the newcomer’s raised eyebrow told Phoenix that he hadn’t been quite quick enough.

He took the time to study Margaery Tyrell closely as she drew closer. She was pretty, certainly, strikingly so; it was difficult to imagine her blending into a crowd. If anything, the mourning clothes she was wearing enhanced the effect. She walked in a way that suggested she was well aware that all eyes were on her; it was the walk, in a strange way, of a leader. Her face was already lit up by the pleasant smile which covered it, which, by design or chance, did little to cover the deep intelligence in her eyes. Phoenix found himself involuntarily swallowing. _Careful, man. Be on your guard. Remember Dahlia Hawthorne_. It was probably an unfair comparison, but it sprang easily to mind.

He opened his mouth to speak, then suddenly realised he had no idea how to address her. _How the hell do I address her? She was queen… but then her husband died. So is she_ still _queen? Or…_ “Lady Margaery. A pleasure to meet you.”

Her smile did not dim, and he breathed an inward sigh of relief. “Ser Phoenix Wright. I have been anxious to meet you. You have been the talk of the court these past days. And this must be Lady Maya Fey?”

Maya blinked in surprise, but had the good sense to bow her head. “I’m honoured, Lady Margaery.”

Margaery was now quite close to them. She turned the full force of her smile on Maya. “The honour is mine, Lady Maya. We must take some wine together some day. Perhaps when this unpleasantness is over. I daresay we could be good friends, you and I.”

_That’s some personality she’s got there._ As Maya sputtered out thanks, Phoenix felt oddly sorry for her. He doubted he would be able to turn down that look. _Which doesn’t bode well if she’s called as a witness_.

“Lady Margaery,” he said, and she turned back to him. “I wonder if we might have some privacy? The three of us, I mean.”

Her smile did not waver. “I understand you may have concerns about sensitivity, ser, but I trust my companions with my life. I have no secrets from them.”

_Right. And I’m Redd White._ Still, there was no point forcing the issue. “I wonder if you could tell us a little about King Joffrey’s death?”

Her smile vanished, and she dipped her head in sorrow. “Ah… of course, ser. It will not be easy, but if it will help to bring the truth to light.” When she raised her head again, her sadness seemed to have vanished, and she indicated a small round table and chairs nearby. “Let us take a seat. I too am in truth a guest in this city, but I would be remiss not to offer you some hospitality.” She turned to one of her ladies and gave a wine order that passed over Phoenix’s head. Something about Ann Arbor?

The three of them sat at the table; Phoenix and Maya close together on one side, Margaery on the other. Her retinue split into groups and hovered around, sitting or standing. They seemed to be talking amongst themselves, but Phoenix suspected they were not talking so loudly that they could not listen as well. Margaery smiled broadly as her two guards stood to attention behind her. “What is it you wish to know?”

“Let’s start with just what happened. And how.”

Margaery took a deep breath. “Very well, ser. The wedding ceremony itself proceeded amicably enough. It was a beautiful ceremony. I wish you could have seen it – or did you? How long have you been in the city, ser?”

Her eyes suggested nothing but genuine curiosity, but Phoenix was not fooled. “Not long, my lady. We arrived in the immediate wake of the king’s death.” _Don’t let too much slip out. You don’t know who here might be your enemy._ “Please proceed.”

“My husband and I were together from then until… until it happened. We proceeded from the Great Sept to the feast together, we dined side by side. His Grace was in fine form, merrily jesting with all around him. It was most pleasing.”

“Especially for his new wife, I bet,” said Maya.

Margaery favoured her with yet another wide smile. “Very perceptive of you, Lady Maya. Yes, I was very happy indeed. It was my wedding day, and the omens for my married life seemed so good. How could I not be?”

Phoenix nodded. “Could you tell us a little about the feast?”

“It was… lavish. Perhaps that is unsurprising; it was after all a royal wedding funded by Tywin Lannister. But I must confess, I was caught quite off guard. There were seventy-seven courses; can you imagine?” Phoenix could swear he could hear Maya drooling; he carefully nudged her. “There was a great deal of entertainment as well. Fools and dancing bears. And seven singers.”

_Fools? Not foolish ones, I hope._ “Seven?” said Phoenix. “Seventy-seven courses and seven singers? Lord Tywin sets a great deal of store by the number seven.”

“But of course, ser,” said Margaery, confusion etched across her face. “Why should it not be so? It is only right to honour the Seven at any holy ceremony. Ah, but being a foreigner, you would not be familiar with our customs, I suppose.”

“Uh, no, not really,” said Phoenix. He felt like kicking himself; fortunately, Maya was saving him the trouble by doing it for him. “So, uh, no trouble at the feast, then?”

Margaery’s face clouded. “Well… there was some brawling, I believe, among some of the sworn men. And then… the jousters.”

Maya leaned forward excitedly. “Jousters? At a wedding?”

“Yes, but… not the way you are thinking, I fear. They were… dwarf jousters. On a pig and a dog. Entertainers; fools of a sort. Most amusing in their way. But I fear the king took the merriment a little too far. He tried to have Lord Tyrion take the place of one of them. Lord Tyrion insulted him back, as he was wont to do, and Joffrey, he… upended his chalice over his uncle.”

_Charming lad. And for the sake of my sanity, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear the bit about the jousters._ Margaery seemed quite distressed; whether at her late husband’s blatant awfulness or the connection of these events to his death, Phoenix couldn’t guess. Those last words had given him a nasty premonition, though, which only grew stronger as Margaery continued.

“He then had Lord Tyrion serve as his cupbearer, which Lord Tyrion did. At that point, the pie came in. Joffrey drank wine from the cup Lord Tyrion had given him, and ate some of Lord Tyrion’s slice of the pie. Then… he keeled over, and began choking, and…”

Tears were appearing in her eyes now. Phoenix held up his hands reassuringly. “Thank you, Lady Margaery. I think that’s all I need to know.”

Margaery nodded, and dried her eyes. “Thank you, ser. Forgive me my lapse in composure. The wound is still very raw, I fear.”

“Not at all, Lady Margaery,” said Maya. “I think you’re being incredibly brave. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if… if something like that happened to me.”

Margaery smiled broadly. “I am certain you would bear up admirably, Lady Maya.” Phoenix felt a rush of appreciation towards Margaery for those words, even if it was only flattery. “After all, you must be a truly remarkable woman, to aid Ser Phoenix in his enquiries into these sorts of dreadful matters. Do you do so often?”

_Fishing for information, obviously, but it’s fairly innocuous. In fact, it’s probably to my advantage to admit my experience_. Maya, he was pleased to note, had not answered, but was watching him out of the corner of her eye. He nodded very slightly; Margaery probably noticed, but to hell with her. At the nod, Maya smiled back.

“Oh yes! All the time! We’re a crack team, fighting for justice!”

She raised her fist in the air at those last words. Phoenix turned to her, and gave her a ‘cut that out’ look. She shot back a ‘never’ look. Fortunately, Margaery only tittered.

“You are lucky indeed to have each other,” she said. “Such a friendship is a rare treasure indeed.” Phoenix thought she paused very slightly before the word “friendship”, but he took it in his stride. She was hardly the only one.

“Thank you,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “I wonder if you would excuse us, my lady? I believe I should prepare some notes on what you have told us.”

Several pleasantries (which Phoenix hoped they’d navigated successfully) later, they were walking out of the gardens and heading back to the inn they currently called home. Maya was humming the Steel Samurai theme tune, and occasionally running ahead of Phoenix to look at interesting things like an excitable child.

“I take it you liked her?” he asked, as much to keep her close as anything.

“Sure!” said Maya with a vigorous nod. “There’s something so romantic about her, don’t you think? Still in mourning for the husband she hardly got to know.”

“’Romantic’ my foot,” said Phoenix harshly. “That was a political marriage if ever I’ve seen one. She still pretends to have been attached to him, but if half of what we’ve heard is true, she’s secretly celebrating the fact that she doesn’t have to stay married to such a monster. Can’t say I blame her either.”

Maya looked at him strangely. “Not like you to be so cynical, Nick.”

Phoenix shrugged. “Maybe this place is getting to me. I’m not used to all this intrigue nonsense, but the people here seem to thrive on it.”

“Me neither,” said Maya sullenly. “But I guess I’ll have to get used to it. If Aunt Morgan is anything to go by, being Master of Kurain is just as bad as anything here. Stuck up on tradition, all kinds of stupid plots and scheming, and… urgh.” She made a face, and Phoenix felt such a rush of sympathy that he declined to point out that plots and scheming were essentially the same thing.

“Anything strike you as odd?” he said, mainly to change the subject.

“Oh, one thing,” said Maya, looking puzzled. “How did she know my name? Getting to be a theme, isn’t it?”

Phoenix shrugged. “I can only assume it’s gotten around the court by now. Tyrion’s in no position to tell anyone, but I’m sure there’s been some kind of investigation into us. For that matter, maybe Varys spread the information. And we did give our real names at the inn where we’re staying. I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

Maya seemed mollified. After a few moments, she asked: “So what about you? Your magatama didn’t react, did it?”

“Nope,” said Phoenix, fingering the small jewel that he, like Maya, was concealing under his clothing. “She’s not half as innocent as she makes herself out to be, but I don’t think she’s hiding anything. And her timeline seemed pretty reliable. Didn’t conflict with any of the partial reports we’ve heard. And as she said, she was by the king’s side the whole time.”

“So you don’t think she was the poisoner?” said Maya, a touch of relief in her voice.

Phoenix shook his head. “And I don’t think she knows who they are either. Which still leaves us with two primary suspects: our client and his wife. And there’s no way we’re getting away with pinning it on her without him suffering for it too. We just have to cast around and see what we can find out.”

Maya frowned. “What about the prosecution? The Crown, or whatever? Any idea what they might throw at us?”

Phoenix winced. “No idea. And I can only think of one way we might find anything out.”

“What’s that?”

“I think we need to go and see the queen.”


	4. A Nest of Lions and Vipers

Maya had never seen a queen before, except on the odd news broadcast from Buckingham Palace. Nor had she ever imagined that she would meet one. As such, as a knight in a white cloak escorted her and Phoenix into Queen Cersei’s chambers, she gave some brief thought to how a queen might look. _Golden hair,_ she decided. _Luxuriant, flowing locks. Beautifully dressed, of course. And with a look in her eye that says ‘I could have you dragged off and executed, and no-one would raise an eyebrow’._

Moments later, when she set eyes on the Queen Regent for the first time, she wondered if those thoughts had actually been a premonition of the woman before her.

Queen Cersei was standing by the window, gazing out with a goblet in her hand. Like Margaery, she was dressed in mourning; unlike Margaery, Maya noticed a certain tension to her posture, as though she might snap at any minute. As the knight announced her visitors, she turned and surveyed them with a look of abject disinterest.

“Thank you, Ser Balon,” she said coolly. “You may remain without. This interview will not last long.”

Maya glanced at Phoenix, but he didn’t seem at all surprised. She supposed that she, too, hadn’t expected the warmest of welcomes. Still, the contrast to the easy courtesy of Margaery was already starkly apparent. As Ser Balon left, Phoenix took a step forward.

“Your Grace, this is a great honour. My name is-”

“I know your name,” said the queen sharply. “Yours and the name of the little trollop who tails you so dutifully.” _I think I’m probably better off not knowing what that means_. “It seems you are all anybody can talk about just now. You and the mockery you are making of our justice system. But no matter. My brother is guilty, and no fine words will wriggle him free of his punishment.”

“Right,” said Phoenix. Maya was impressed he could even say that much. “Could you… tell us why you believe your brother to be guilty?”

Queen Cersei glared at him, but relented quickly. “It is hard to conceive of how he could be more obviously guilty. That little monster has dogged my footsteps and turned all my joy to ash” – for some reason she winced at this point, as if she had said something that surprised even herself – “ever since he killed my mother in birth. No-one could deny that he despised poor Joff; out of jealousy, no doubt. He most certainly had the means to kill him, as you have no doubt heard, and he had more reason to want him dead than any man in the Seven Kingdoms, save perhaps Lord Stannis, and it would not surprise me in the slightest were the two of them in league with each other. Does that adequately answer your question?”

Phoenix nodded. “Thank you, Your Grace. Just one more question, if you don’t mind. Did anyone, to your knowledge, actually see Lord Tyrion slip poison into the cup?”

The queen sighed. “My brother is sly enough not to be spotted. He had ample opportunity to do so; far more than anyone else. And why would anyone be watching him? I daresay most people take any opportunity they can not to look at that revolting creature.”

_If he was so suspicious, then why weren’t_ you _watching him?_ Maya wasn’t nearly stupid enough to challenge the queen, though. Instead she bowed low and said: “I am sorry for your loss, Your Grace. For whatever it’s worth.”

When she straightened up, Cersei was looking at her as though she had just torn off her clothes and run around the room whooping. “What manner of courtesy were you taught, girl? I have never seen such a bow.”

_Oh for… What did I do wrong?!_ “I-I’m sorry, Your Grace. This is how we bow where I come from.”

Cersei sighed. “Very well. You can hardly be blamed for a heathen education. Although were I you, I should take care to learn the ways of another land before I began running around attempting to solve its problems and absolve its criminals.”

_Right. So you’re not going to_ tell me _what I did wrong. Great._

After a tense moment, Phoenix too bowed. The queen raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. _Hey, why doesn’t he get chewed out for being a heathen or whatever?_ “Thank you for your time, Your Grace. And you have my condolences.” He glanced at Maya and signalled with his eyes, unnecessarily, that it was high time they left.

Cersei stared with them with unconcealed contempt all the way out of the room. Maya could swear she could feel a regal glare on her back all the way out of the Red Keep. She decided the queen was in fact following them in order to glare at their retreating backs, and had to suppress a giggle at the thought. Phoenix gave her a strange look, but said nothing.

She shared the thought with him when they were back on the bustling streets of King’s Landing, where there was no chance of being overheard. He grinned widely. “Wouldn’t surprise me. If you suddenly start to feel very cold during the trial tomorrow, that’s probably why.”

At those words, a cold shiver did run down Maya’s spine. She had almost forgotten that the trial was so close. “Do you think you’re prepared?”

Phoenix gave her a wry look. “When have I ever been prepared on the first day of a trial? I’ve made a career from feeding off scraps of information.”

Maya grinned. “I hope they give you a desk to slam your hands into. You just wouldn’t be Nick without it.”

“So do I. That’s like 50% of my strategy.”

They chatted and joked all the way back to the inn where they were staying. As they passed through the door, they gave a friendly nod to the innkeeper, who had been looking suspiciously at them ever since they had arrived; perhaps because they had asked for one room but given two surnames. _Well it’s not as though we have much money. Especially after getting the right clothes to fit in here. Just as well I had that bracelet Pearly gave me._ Her heart still ached from having to sell her birthday present from her beloved cousin, but it had fetched a hefty price and they had been short on money-making options.

A thought struck her. _I bet that innkeeper guy is the one who’s been telling everyone our names. Screw that guy!_ As they headed for the stairs, her friendly smile morphed into a suspicious glare in his direction. The man winced as though struck, and returned to conversing with a patron. _Take that! One patented Fey glare!_

As she turned her head back, halfway up the stairs, Phoenix put an arm out to stop her.

“Nick?”

He put a finger on his lips, and pointed. The door to their room was slightly ajar. Fear seized her body and she looked back at him wide-eyed. His expression mirrored her own as he beckoned her slowly, carefully up the rest of the stairs, across the wooden landing (which creaked a little more than she’d have liked), over to the door.

When it was suddenly thrown open to reveal Oberyn Martell, with a wide smile on his face, it was only with superhuman self-control that Maya stopped herself from jumping backwards, and straight down the stairs, out of sheer shock.

“Ser Phoenix. Lady Maya. I daresay we are overdue for a talk.”

 

* * *

 

“I hope you won’t mind me disturbing your privacy. Unfortunately, secrets tend not to remain secret for long in the Red Keep. Too many spiders scuttling about, you see.”

It was a few minutes later, and both Phoenix and Maya had more or less recovered from their near brush with cardiac arrest. Oberyn had, it transpired, been in their room for some time with a pitcher of wine, ordered from the innkeeper downstairs, who had apparently seen fit to unlock their door on command as well. _We’re definitely moving somewhere else._

Now he was lounging against the wall, watching them both carefully. Phoenix was sitting on the room’s sole chair, pointedly matching the Viper’s gaze. Maya, for her part, was sitting on the small trunk which contained their clothes from back home. She didn’t know if Oberyn had searched the room before they had arrived, but she was damned if she wouldn’t stand between him and their secrets as much as she possibly could.

Oberyn went on: “No doubt you expected this meeting. In fact, I would guess that you were warned against me, no?” He scrutinised both their faces carefully. Maya made sure to look as blank as possible, even though she knew that was a giveaway in itself. “Well, no matter. I have no intention of coercing you into anything. This visit is no more than an attempt to satisfy my own curiosity.”

“I presume you’ve been watching us?” said Phoenix.

“Naturally,” said Oberyn, his eyes flashing. “As much for your own safety as anything. As you must realise, you are in as much danger as Lord Tyrion at present. Not that you are doing yourself any favours on that account. I knew you did not lack for courage, but to speak to the Queen Regent about her son’s death? I am half-convinced you are Barristan the Bold in some elaborate disguise.”

“We needed to know what we’re up against,” said Phoenix coolly. “I wanted to get the measure of the queen for myself.”

“Turns out she’s scary,” said Maya.

“Then you recognise her as your adversary? There may be hope for you yet, ser. Of course, she too prefers to measure up her foes.” Oberyn’s smile faded. “Your desire for justice may be genuine, but you will find little help from the people of the Red Keep. Most of them know nothing, and any who do will pretend to know nothing.”

“And what do you know?” said Maya. Phoenix glanced over to her, but said nothing.

Oberyn’s smile reappeared. “That is most definitely the right attitude. Be sure not to let it dull.” He shrugged. “Sadly, I know no more than you do. I was not on the dais, so I saw little of what unfolded. Less than any of those smug Tyrells, I daresay.”

“I hear your family and the Tyrells have something of a rivalry?” said Phoenix.

“I must commend you, ser. You have picked up a lot of useful information.”

Phoenix shrugged. “Spend an hour in a tavern and you’ll hear all the gossip worth knowing. That’s pretty much universally true.”

Oberyn shuffled slightly. “It is one of those age-old rivalries with little present-day relevance except as an excuse for simmering resentment and pettiness. I have little time for it; nor, I believe, does my brother. As for Mace Tyrell, he would not cling to it if he did not see political gain in it. But I do not hate the Tyrells, if that is what you are asking.”

“Didn’t you call them ‘smug’ just now?” said Maya.

Oberyn laughed. “They are smug. That is a judgement, not a prejudice. For instance, Ser Garlan is not so bad. And Willas is quite pleasant. A pity he is not here. He might temper some of his family’s short-sighted foolishness.”

“Look,” said Phoenix with sudden sharpness. “Would you mind telling me why you’re here? I’ve got to get to work if we’re going to get through this trial.”

“You mistake me, ser. My purpose is only to offer what help I may. I have no desire to see Lord Tyrion executed, and your intervention seems the surest way of preventing that.”

“Why not?” said Phoenix. “Why do you care what happens to Lord Tyrion?”

Oberyn studied him for a moment. “You may not believe me, Ser Phoenix, but our goals are in fact aligned. I too desire justice above all else. Indeed, I made that fact known to Lord Tyrion as soon as I arrived in this city. As you will soon discover, this is a place where the concept of justice belongs to whomever can pay most highly for it. I wondered if Lord Tyrion might be a man who would understand a purer form of justice. I believe that you most certainly are.”

Phoenix was caught off guard. “Then you’re not going to… I don’t know, pay me to do something?”

Oberyn laughed. “Why should I? You are already doing precisely what I want.”

He glanced out the window, then took a step towards the door. “Unfortunately, as you have suggested, my being here late can only work against both our interests. No doubt you have much preparation to do. I shall see you both tomorrow.”

He bowed slightly, then left, making a point of closing the door behind him. When she was sure he was gone, Maya stuck her tongue out in the direction he had gone.

“Classy,” said Phoenix with a grin.

“At least it gets my point across,” said Maya, standing up and stretching. “I don’t like that guy. I feel like he’s laughing at us.”

“He doesn’t seem to be actively working against us, which is something. As long as that’s true, he can laugh all he wants.”

Maya was silent for a few minutes. As Phoenix pulled some parchment towards him and began to make notes, she wandered over to the window. The inn was well-situated; you could see most of the city from it. Everything from those horrible slums in Flea Bottom (she shuddered to recall her brief glimpses of them) to the bustling docks to the proud Great Sept of Baelor. It felt to her like something from a storybook, something she might have liked when she was younger – all knights and princesses and chivalry. Except the king had been murdered, the kingdom was in a state of civil war and there didn’t seem to be much chivalry going around. It was all so… depressingly _real_.

“Hey, Nick?” she said at last.

“Mm?” replied Phoenix, absorbed in his notes.

“Do you think this trial, this whole thing… you think it’s the reason we’re here?”

He stopped, and turned to her. “Maybe. Sort of coincidental, don’t you think? A lawyer from another world appears just before a big trial is scheduled to begin? A big trial where the verdict seems assured?”

“A lawyer who loves hopeless causes.” Maya nodded. “So if that’s true, does it mean that if you get a ‘not guilty’ verdict… we can go home?” Her hands clenched into fists as she said those last words; she was glad of her voluptuous sleeves as she hid them.

Phoenix hesitated before answering. “I think… if there _is_ a reason we were brought here, then that’s very possible. For now, it’s all we have to focus on, so we might as well. And by the way, I don’t _love_ hopeless causes. I just… get a lot of them. If anything, I’d like a nice easy case from time to time.”

Maya was about to speak again, then promptly shut her mouth. Should she…? But of course, why wouldn’t she? It was _Nick_ , for Heaven’s sake, she could tell him anything. And this was something he would want to know. Something he needed to know. “There’s… something else. Something I haven’t told you about this world.”

Phoenix stared at her, trepidation clouding his face. “Go on.”

“Well, the first night after we came here, I was so worried… after you went to sleep, I tried to channel Sis. We had just gotten all that parchment, I thought she might write down some advice or something. But…” She blinked, and looked down at her feet. “I… I couldn’t. I don’t know if it’s because my powers don’t work here, or that I can’t contact dead people from another world. But either way…” Her eyes filled with tears, and she knew there was nothing she could do to hide them. “We’re alone here, Nick. _You’re_ alone. I can’t do anything to help you. What good is a spirit medium who can’t channel? Some Master I am…”

Phoenix moved quicker than she had ever seen to embrace her as she broke down in tears. She gratefully buried her head in his shoulder as he stroked her back soothingly.

“Hey now,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to hear you talk like that, Maya. I don’t need you to be a spirit medium. I never have. Sure, it’s come in useful before, and sure, it’d be nice to have some advice from Mia. But it doesn’t matter. We’ll be fine without it. I don’t need the Kurain technique, and I don’t even need her. But I do need you. I need you here, ready to help me like you always have.”

Maya continued to sniffle. “But… you don’t _need_ me. Not here. You’re the lawyer. I’m just the stupid girl who tags along. Even here everyone just assumes I’m your girlfriend. Or your _wife_. Why am I even here?”

“Exactly,” said Phoenix, sounding so pleased that she looked up at his face in shock. “Why _are_ you here? A minute ago, we were talking about what a coincidence it was that I should arrive here now. Like I was chosen, or something. Well, if I was chosen, so were you. Because whatever… weird force or whatever brought us here, it knew that I wouldn’t be able to get the job done without you. That should be all the evidence you need.”

He sounded so triumphant, so confident in his flawed conclusion. Maya had to smile slightly. “You call that evidence? I _knew_ that badge in the trunk was just for show.”

“Hey, don’t go badmouthing the badge.” His smile reflected hers. “You want more evidence? Remember after Edgeworth’s trial, when you went back to Kurain?” Maya nodded. As if she wouldn’t remember forcing herself to part from her best friend. “Did you ever notice from the records that I didn’t take any cases for two months after that? I couldn’t work. Couldn’t motivate myself. Couldn’t focus. And the only reason I _did_ take a case was because a teenage girl came in who reminded me of you. So there you go. Take that!”

Maya stared at him incredulously for a moment, before she burst out laughing. “Seriously, Nick? You couldn’t _do your job_ just because I went home? Wow, I hope Sis never finds out. She’d… she’d…” She was overcome by a fit of laughter, and had to shake herself free of Phoenix’s embrace to hold her sides, which were already aching.

Phoenix looked slightly affronted. “Well, what about you? You came right back, didn’t you?”

“Hey!” Maya punched him in the arm affectionately. “We’re talking about _you_ being pathetic here! Not me!” She stopped laughing as she realised what she’d just said. _Very sneaky, Nick._ “Hey… that’s what you meant, isn’t it?”

“I was hoping for less abuse, but at least my point got across.” He put an arm around her shoulders. “At the very least, we’re equally pathetic. How does that sound?”

“Terrible.”

“Yeah, I know. We’ll work on it.”

Maya nodded. “You know what else we’ll work on?”

“What?”

“Kicking that snooty queen’s butt in court. And everyone else’s too.”

Phoenix nodded, then winced guiltily. “Uh, in that case, I’d better get back to those notes.” He sat down and picked up his pen.

Maya hovered at his shoulder. “Hey, Nick, you need me to stand here and inspire you? You won’t collapse in tears if I go downstairs for some water, will you?”

“…I’m going to regret telling you about that, aren’t I?”

“Yep.”

“Great.”


	5. A Parade of Knights

What surprised Phoenix most was how familiar it all felt. Standing in court, his fingers drumming nervously on the table before him, the buzz of conversation all around him, waiting for the defendant to arrive and proceedings to begin. The biggest difference was the lack of a prosecutor, he supposed. _Well, that and three judges. Who are also sort of prosecutors. Eep, come to think of it, that doesn’t sound so good._

Having Maya by his side helped, of course. He glanced down, and flashed her a quick grin, which she returned. There was that, at least. True, he had absolutely no evidence exonerating his client, and no real idea of where to begin. But he was Phoenix Wright, with Maya Fey by his side, and that alone counted for an awful lot.

The creak of large doors opening, and the accompanying hush of the crowd, signalled that Tyrion had been brought up. _They like to be dramatic here, huh? A little oil on the hinges of those doors would spoil everyone’s fun._ He stared pointedly ahead as Tyrion arrived next to him, his arms chained together, flanked and followed a small troop of city guardsmen. As the guards dispersed to the back of the hall, he nodded to his client.

“How nice to see you again so soon,” said Tyrion flatly.

“We were _hoping_ to visit you again before today, but, uh, we were busy,” said Maya.

“I shall take that as a good sign.”

Any thought of further conversation was cut off as Lord Tywin’s loud, authoritative voice rang through the hall. “This trial will now begin. Provided no more mysterious visitors see fit to arrive and waste the judges’ time.” _Ouch_. “Since Tyrion has already claimed his innocence on the occasion of our previous gathering, we will now hear witnesses for the Crown, which, in deference to the wishes of one of our judges-” his face tightened as he said this “-will be questioned first by the judges, then by Ser Phoenix on behalf of the accused.” _I swear punches will be thrown at that high table before the trial is over. At least, I hope so. A little chaos would suit me nicely._ “The accused himself will not speak unless asked a direct question. Is this clear?” Tyrion and Phoenix both nodded. “Very well. We will hear from our first witness, then.”

A man in a white cloak was ushered in, and brought to face both the judges and the defence. As the High Septon swore him to speak only truth, Tyrion leaned over to Phoenix: “Ser Balon Swann of the Kingsguard.”

“Ah. So one of the king’s protectors?”

“And a man respected for his honesty and integrity. His presence may not bode well for me, but at the very least I think it unlikely he will lie deliberately.” He might have spoken further, but at that point they both became aware that Lord Tywin was looking forcefully at them.

“Lord Hand,” Ser Balon began. “I had the honour to fight beside your son on the bridge of ships. He is a brave man for his size, and I will not believe he did this thing.”

_Great, that makes… four of us? Five? Let’s form a club._ A murmur ran through the hall, and Maya leaned over to whisper to Phoenix. “Makes a nice change, eh Nick? A witness on our side?”

“A supposedly reliable one,” said Phoenix gloomily. “Why do I have a bad feeling about that?”

Lord Tywin hit the high table lightly, but hard enough to ensure silence. “Tyrion’s courage or lack thereof is immaterial. A brave man may also kill his king. Ser Balon, what can you tell us about the relationship between Tyrion and the king?”

Ser Balon spoke as though the words were being dragged from him. “There was… enmity between them, that is true. They clashed many times while Lord Tyrion was serving as acting Hand.”

Mace Tyrell leaned forward. “Is it not true that Lord Tyrion, on one occasion, dared to strike the king?”

_Oh hell_. “Aye, my lord, it is so. A fit of wroth, no more. The mob near tore us all apart. All was chaos.”

“While the king’s White Swords stood by and allowed this to happen?” said Prince Oberyn.

“He was of the blood royal, and the King’s Hand beside,” said Ser Balon.

“No,” Lord Tywin said. “He was _acting_ Hand, in my stead.”

After a few more descriptions of acrimonious encounters between Joffrey and Tyrion, each of which made Phoenix wince anew, Lord Tywin finally seemed satisfied. “Thank you, Ser Balon. Ser Phoenix, ask what you wish.”

“Go get him, Nick,” whispered Maya. Phoenix considered pointing out that he had no reason to “get” Ser Balon, but decided it was best not to engage in a whispering match with his assistant when everyone in the room was watching him.

Instead, he cleared his throat. _Keep it simple._ “Ser Balon, did you see Lord Tyrion slip poison into the king’s cup?”

Ser Balon answered quickly and confidently. “No, ser. All eyes were on the king and queen.” The murmuring which had started with Phoenix’s question only grew louder.

“And was Lord Tyrion the only one with access to the cup?”

“Far from it, ser. There were a goodly number of guests on the dais, not to mention servants.”

_If this guy is honest, better milk him for all he’s worth_. “Could you give us an account of the king’s death, Ser Balon?”

“O-of course, ser. The king took a bite of pie, followed by a gulp of wine-”

“Hold it!”

Silence descended as Phoenix suddenly found himself the subject of a whole room of confused stares. The three judges were staring, Ser Balon was staring, Tyrion was staring… even Maya was staring at him, although her look was one of anticipation rather than bafflement.

“Hold… what?” said Ser Balon finally. “I don’t understand, ser. What do you wish me to hold?”

“What?” Phoenix found himself goggling in incomprehension. “Oh, uh, never mind. I just wanted to stop your testimony for a moment, Ser Balon. Uh, to ask a question.”

“Oh, I see.” Ser Balon looked as though he fundamentally did not see. _And now everyone here thinks I’m an idiot. Why does this all feel so familiar?_

“Uh, anyway… are you certain that the king ate the pie and _then_ drank wine? Or could it have been the other way around?”

“I…” Ser Balon looked genuinely uncertain. “I believe so. I am afraid I do not remember clearly, ser. Had I known what was to happen next, of course…”

“Sure. Carry on.”

“The king was speaking to Lord Tyrion, when suddenly he began to choke. He fell to the ground and began to claw at his throat. Of course, we all rushed to his aid.”

“Hold it!” This time, everyone’s looks were expectant rather than baffled. _Progress_. “When you say ‘we all’, who exactly do you mean?”

“Let me see… all of we Kingsguard, of course. Ser Garlan Tyrell. Lord Mace. Queen Cersei. Perhaps others.”

“And what were you all doing?”

“Anything we could, ser. Attempting to make the king cough up the pie we thought he was choking on. Everyone was shouting instructions. There was a great deal of confusion.”

“And did you see Lord Tyrion at this time?”

“No, ser. I believe he was nearby. My Sworn Brother Ser Boros said that-”

“I asked if _you_ saw Lord Tyrion, Ser Balon.”

“No, ser.”

“Thank you, Ser Balon. I have no further questions.”

As Ser Balon walked out, Maya leaned over to him. “That’s it? You’re not gonna, I don’t know… accuse him of anything?”

“ _No_ , Maya.” _Why do I feel like I’ve been teaching this girl wrongly?_

A herald was now before them to announce the next witness: “Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard.”

Phoenix heard Tyrion flinch beside him, with a rattling of chains, as another white-cloaked man came forth. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“You will remember what I said of Ser Balon? Honest, decent, a true knight by all accounts?”

“Yes…?”

“Ser Meryn is decidedly _not_ those things.”

“Oh. Great.”

As he swore to tell the truth, Ser Meryn shot a withering glare in Tyrion’s direction. Even as Lord Tywin was opening his mouth to ask a question, Ser Meryn stated bluntly: “You’re a murderer, Imp. Every man in this hall knows it, and no false knight foreign pansy can save you.”

_I’m not sure which part of that I should object to most_. Phoenix opened his mouth for his first objection of the trial, but, to his surprise, Lord Tywin beat him to it.

“Ser Meryn, you will refrain from speaking directly to the accused. Now, Ser Balon has spoken of clashes between the king and the accused. What can you tell us about this?”

Ser Meryn smiled widely. “Oh, much and more, my Lord Hand. Ser Balon is a fine knight, but he knows little about what evil lies in the hearts of men. No doubt the Imp spoke sweet words and fooled him into believing him a decent, gods-fearing creature. But I witnessed such violence, such hatred from the Imp directed at our beloved king as would make your hair stand on end. I can reveal to you the pure malice that lies in that creature’s soul.”

“Ser Meryn, if you truly have such tales, you would do well to tell them at some point ere we all grow old and grey,” said Prince Oberyn bemusedly.

Ser Meryn scowled, but went on. “I saw the Imp strike His Grace. Aye, and more. Why, poor King Joffrey had hardly escaped from the mob when his uncle leapt at him and knocked him to the ground, began kicking him and shouting… vile things.”

“What vile things?” asked Mace Tyrell.

“That it was unjust that His Grace had escaped unharmed from the mob. That he should have been torn apart like the late High Septon.”

Phoenix leaned over to Tyrion under cover of the crowd’s murmuring: “Did any of this actually happen?”

“Of course not,” Tyrion replied in a sharp undertone. “I struck the boy, as Ser Balon said, but do you really think I would yet live if I had brutally attacked him in such a manner?”

“Were there other occasions on which the accused threatened the king’s life or person?” asked Lord Tywin when he had silenced the crowd.

“Indeed so, my lord. So many, I could scarcely name them all.”

“Perhaps you might name one?” said Oberyn, a smile playing about his lips.

“Of course.” Ser Meryn took on what he presumably considered a solemn expression, which in fact looked as though he had just encountered a bad smell. “On one occasion, His Grace had instructed we Kingsguard to chastise the Stark girl.”

“For what reason?” asked Oberyn.

Ser Meryn seemed stumped. “I… I misremember, my lord. Perhaps something to do with her traitorous brother.” _And so absolutely nothing to do with_ her. “The dwarf interrupted us as we were performing this duty. Stopped us from carrying out the king’s express command. Then he asked the king if he knew what had happened to Aerys Targaryen.”

As the crowd made more noise, Phoenix whispered to Tyrion again: “Um… what _did_  happen to Aerys Targaryen?”

Tyrion looked at him strangely. “Overthrown and killed. Have you not heard of my brother the Kingslayer?”

“Runs in the family, does it?” He meant it as a joke, but Tyrion only winced.

As it happened, Ser Meryn’s terrible stories ran dry soon after that, and it was Phoenix’s turn to step up. “Ser Meryn, I will ask you what I asked Ser Balon. Did you see Lord Tyrion slip poison into the king’s cup?”

Ser Meryn shrugged. “It was the Imp who filled the king’s cup. What better opportunity to slip poison in?”

“From what I have heard, King Joffrey asked Lord Tyrion to be his cupbearer. It must have been quite the spectacle; no doubt all eyes were on them. So I ask again: did you actually witness any trace of poison make its way into the cup?”

Ser Meryn scowled and squirmed, but answered: “No. I did not. But I did see him empty the dregs of the cup while the king was choking. Why would he do that if not to remove all trace of the poison?”

_Damn. Hey, wait…_ “Hold it! Ser Meryn, you are claiming that you actually saw Lord Tyrion do this?”

“Yes, I did. Do you name me liar?”

“Certainly not.” Phoenix grinned. “But it does seem odd that you would pay attention to such a detail when your king was, to all appearances, dying in front of you. Were you not more concerned with saving his life?”

Ser Meryn jumped as though he had been struck. “But… of course. It was while engaged in the process of attempting to save the king that I happened to look over at the dwarf and-”

“Is that so? You mustn’t have been trying very hard to save him, then.” The crowd started murmuring again behind Phoenix as Ser Meryn’s face darkened with rage. “So I ask you again, ser. Were you tending to your king, or looking about you in bafflement?”

Ser Meryn glared so hard that Phoenix could swear he was about to unsheathe his sword. “I… I was tending to the king.”

“And if your full attention was on the king, on your duty, you could not have been watching Lord Tyrion. Is that not so?”

“N… Yes. I was… not watching the Imp.”

“Very well then. No further questions.”

As Ser Meryn left the hall, Tyrion turned to Phoenix with a grin. “Well played, ser.”

Phoenix shrugged. “Might as well make his lies work in our favour for once. It was true about you spilling the wine, wasn’t it?”

Tyrion’s face darkened. “Yes. It was. How did you…?”

“Suffice to say I know when people are hiding things. And Ser Meryn wasn’t when he said that.” Phoenix smiled. “And neither are you when you claim innocence.”

“Ser Osmund Kettleblack,” announced the herald.

As Ser Osmund strode confidently to the centre of the hall, Phoenix waited for Tyrion’s explanatory introduction, but none was forthcoming. Under cover of the oath, he turned to his client with eyebrows raised. Tyrion only shrugged.

“I know little and less of Ser Osmund,” he said. “He is my sister’s lickspittle, but he is hardly unique in that.”

“Great,” said Phoenix flatly. “I love mystery witnesses.”

Unlike his predecessors, Ser Osmund waited to be asked a question before speaking. _I see. So he’s going to go where he’s led._ Once again, it was Lord Tywin who began by asking about the relationship between Joffrey and Tyrion.

Ser Osmund took on a sorrowful countenance. “When first I came to this court, Her Grace Queen Cersei warned me of the Imp. ‘My brother was ever a twisted, spiteful creature,’ she said. ‘We must all be wary of his machinations. Given the opportunity, he would destroy us all.’”

“Could that be true?” whispered Phoenix.

“Possibly,” Tyrion replied. “That does rather sound like my sweet sister. And she has been… spending a great deal of personal time with Ser Osmund.”

Phoenix nodded in understanding, but Maya looked curious. “Personal time? You mean like they were friends, or…?” At a sharp look from Phoenix, her eyes widened, and she blushed. “Oh. Personal. Right.”

Mace Tyrell was asking a question now: “And did His Grace himself say aught to you on this matter?”

“Aye, my lord. King Joffrey saw further than any of us. He knew what vile schemes were hatching in the dwarf’s mind. On the day that they gave me the white cloak, that brave boy said to me, ‘Good Ser Osmund, guard me well, for my uncle loves me not. He means to be king in my place.”

The loudest outbreak of murmuring yet broke out at this point, but above it all came the sound of a single word: “OBJECTION!”

Phoenix had outstretched his trusty finger, and was pointing it directly at Ser Osmund. _Here comes the fun part_.

“Ser Phoenix, you will explain the meaning of this absurd outburst at once,” said Lord Tywin angrily.

“My lord, I have problems with what Ser Osmund has just said,” said Phoenix. He turned back to the witness. “Ser Osmund, how much do you know of succession laws?”

Ser Osmund had turned red, from embarrassment or anger. “Not… not a great deal, ser. I am no maester.”

“I see. Then let me enlighten you.” _Boy, I hope I’m right about this. Hastily-consulted history books, don’t fail me now._ “King Joffrey was the heir to King Robert, through the direct male line. His own heir was Prince Tommen. After Prince Tommen comes Princess Myrcella. After that… well, things get a little hazy. I am no maester either. Perhaps one of our judges might enlighten me as to who might come after Princess Myrcella?”

“It would be Stannis Baratheon, were he not an attainted traitor,” said Lord Tywin. His fury had diminished somewhat, though he still looked piqued. “In the event, a Great Council would most likely be called, to find the most suitable heir to the throne. But it is both impossible and unthinkable that Tyrion Lannister would ever have been named king, having neither a direct blood link to the royal line, nor the authority to be considered a good candidate for the throne.”

“Thank you, my lord,” said Phoenix. “Now, as you can see, your claim makes no sense. It is unthinkable that Tyrion Lannister could ever have won the throne, even through King Joffrey’s death. It is equally unthinkable that King Joffrey would not have known that!” For good measure, he pointed his finger at Ser Osmund again.

Ser Osmund was sweating. “Well… King Robert won the throne! And Aegon the Conqueror before him! Neither of them were in the line of succession!”

_Even I know that’s a terrible example._ “King Robert had the support of most of the Seven Kingdoms behind him, and _did_ have a direct blood link to the throne besides,” said Oberyn smoothly. “As for Aegon, the throne did not _exist_ before him. Besides that, King Robert took the throne from a mad king who was a danger to the realm. Or do you claim that the same was true of King Joffrey?”

_Damn. Even I wouldn’t have taken that cheap shot._ It hadn’t made Oberyn popular, judging by the glares coming from all sides of the hall, but Phoenix suspected he was rather enjoying himself.

Ser Osmund apparently hadn’t finished digging his hole. “Perhaps the Imp meant to murder Prince Tommen as well and use the resulting succession crisis to his advantage?”

“And what of Princess Myrcella?” said Oberyn, his smile standing in stark contrast to his icy tone. “She is safe in Dorne. Or do you believe that the dwarf’s arms are long enough to reach past my brother’s protection?”

“I-” Ser Osmund apparently thought better of what he was about to say. “No, my lord. I apologise for any offence I may have caused.”

“We do not need your speculation, Ser Osmund,” said Lord Tywin icily. “Only your testimony. You will confine yourself to factual events, or be removed from this trial at once.”

Phoenix sneaked a quick look at Queen Cersei at that point, and felt a spark of triumph at the sight of her livid face. _I haven’t come close to proving Tyrion’s innocence, but at least I’ve shot down a lie or two. It’s a start_.

Ser Osmund had clearly taken his chastisement to heart; for the rest of his questioning, he was meek to all appearances, drily relating various stories of encounters between Tyrion and Joffrey up to the wedding, none of which were new. When Phoenix’s turn came, he stood up quickly. Ser Osmund looked as though he was about to flinch. _Am I making the big brave knight nervous?_

“Ser Osmund, did you see Lord Tyrion slip poison into the king’s cup?” The assembled crowd had heard the answer already, but the more times they and the judges heard it, the better.

Ser Osmund stared at him for a moment, then seemed to recover. “No, ser. I did not.” He looked as though he was about to add something, but stopped himself.

“Could anyone else have had access to the king’s cup at any point during the feast?”

Ser Osmund hesitated. “Perhaps.”

“‘Perhaps’?” It was all too easy to push. Besides, something about Ser Osmund had really gotten on Phoenix’s nerves since he had first entered. “Either there were other people with access, or there were not. ‘Perhaps’ only applies when you don’t actually _know_ the answer.”

“…Yes. Others on the dais could have gotten to the king’s cup.” Ser Osmund seemed to be determinedly not looking at the queen. _Can’t say I blame him._

“Very well. No further questions.”

As Ser Osmund was led out of the hall, Lord Tywin looked out the window. “The hour grows late,” he announced. “We shall resume on the morrow.”

_Hmm… that might not be good_. “My lord, I beg more time to investigate,” said Phoenix. He was greeted with a withering look.

“A great deal of investigation has already been carried out, Ser Phoenix. Your role here, such as it is, is to defend the accused from the results of that investigation. There is no need for you to seek conclusions; that is the task of this trial, and of the judges.”

_Well that told me_. “Very well, my lord.” He turned to Tyrion. “What do you think?”

“You did well today, ser,” said Tyrion warily. “But my sister has not yet brought her full wroth to bear. This is but the beginning.” As his escort came up to bring him back to the cells, he nodded to them. “Ser Phoenix, Lady Maya. I shall see you on the morrow.”

Maya sighed. “He’s right, you know, Nick. All you’ve been doing is proving he might not have done it. We need more than that.”

Phoenix nodded silently. His eye was drawn to the gallery, where Margaery Tyrell was standing up to leave. She was deep in conversation with an elderly woman whom Phoenix assumed must be her grandmother. After a moment, she looked down, and nodded to him with a small smile. He nodded back.

“We don’t have much time,” he said. “But we need to talk to everyone we can. Tyrion didn’t do this, which means that someone else did. And someone, somewhere, knows something.”

Maya thought about that statement for a moment. “That’s… not the most definite thing you’ve ever said, Nick. That’s a lot of ‘some’s.”

“And I was never that good at math.”

Maya gave him a withering look that rivalled Lord Tywin’s. “Remember when we had that talk about puns?”

“No?”

“OK, let me summarise it: don’t make them. Clear enough?”

“Hey, you’re not the Master of me.”

Maya stuck her tongue out at him, which Phoenix took to mean he had won. _I really hope no-one saw that._ He took a quick glance around just in case. No, it seemed that everyone in the hall was too deep in conversation to have noticed.

Or so he thought, anyway, until his eye caught that of Queen Cersei, who was glaring at him and Maya with undisguised hatred. At least, he assumed Maya must be included in her hatred as well as him; guilt by association, presumably. Perhaps she just hated anyone within a ten-yard radius of him by extension. He flashed the queen a quick grin, then turned back to Maya.

“Hey, didn’t you want to really annoy the queen?”

“Well, I really wanted to _beat_ her, but I’ll settle for annoying her. Why, is she furious?”

“Livid. Like, burning us alive with the force of her stare livid.”

Maya punched the air. “You know you’re doing something right when nasty people are angry at you.”

Phoenix shrugged. “I’m kind of just used to _everyone_ being angry at me when I’m in court. Well, everyone but you. And maybe Pearls… no, actually, just you.”

“Hey, let me check something,” said Maya, leaning slightly to the side and peering past Phoenix. “Yep, the queen is still glaring at us. Hey, you think if we stay here all night, she will too?”

“Probably,” said Phoenix. “It’d be an interesting way to cripple the prosecution. Although it’d also cripple the defence, so probably not worth it.”

Maya nodded sagely. “Yeah, you’re right. How would we go to the bathroom? Then again, how would _she_ go to the bathroom?” Her eyes gleamed. “Nick, it still works!”

“That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

“How do you know that I know it?”

“I know you know it because I know you, and you know me, and I know that you know what I know, because, you know…” Phoenix paused, then shook his head. “Sorry, that sentence got away from me.”

“No, it’s OK. I get it. I know you and you know me and you know we and we are all together. See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly.”

“…Now I’ve lost the plot entirely. Or you have. Or we both have.”

Maya considered for a second. “Hey, Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are we still standing here again?”

“…I have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Maya is a Beatles fan now. If you take one thing from this ludicrous mash-up, make sure it's that.


End file.
